Watchstar by Pamela Sargent Read Free Book Online

the vehicle.
    “You are cruel,” his voice said in the darkness.
    “I warned you.”
    “You do not seem to understand a kindness.”
    “Be careful of what you say.” She waited, ready to strike at him again.
    “This world must have done this to you. Do not threaten me, you cannot hurt me.”
    She realized she had roused his anger and his pride.
    “Don't tempt me,” she said. “I can do more to you than you think.” She waited, for a moment hoping he would give her an excuse to destroy him.
    The door of the craft slid shut.
    Daiya turned away. She clenched her fists. Suddenly, she felt ashamed. Taking out her anger on the boy was as bad as taking it out on an animal—maybe worse. It would be kinder to kill him than to torment him like this. He might be an inferior being, but he had feelings like hers, and a mind that could reason, powerless as it was.
    She thought: I am a bad person, keeping secrets from the village, getting angry, asking questions. The boy's presence and his questions had disturbed her more than she had realized. She would die during her ordeal, she knew it now, it was beyond doubt. Her skin felt wet and cold; her stomach was tight. She would die. Maybe it was the only thing that could save her now, dying; after her suffering, the Merged One would rejoin her to Itself. If It existed. She thought: if I still doubt, at the moment of death, will I be condemned to eternal isolation? Of course, if there was no God, she would be condemned anyway.
    She walked slowly to the craft and peered inside. Reiho stared out at her suspiciously through the transparent dome, his face lit by the waning moon and the comet's bright light. She put her hand on the clear surface; Reiho shrank back. He probably thought he was safe inside the vehicle, but he was not. If she used all her strength, she could lift the craft and dash it against the hillside, or spin it so rapidly the boy would grow faint. She was beginning to understand why those without powers had to die.
    She said, “I am sorry.”
    The boy blinked his eyes and was silent.
    “I am sorry,” she said, as loudly as she could. “Please open the door.”
    At last the door slid open. Reiho, still seated on one of the reclining seats, peered out cautiously. He held one hand in front of his face, as if guarding himself.
    “I'm sorry,” she repeated. “I should not have lost my temper. You were not trying to harm me.”
    He put his hand down and frowned. Daiya carefully explored his surface thoughts. He was a frightened boy, far from his home, puzzled by her. He too was keeping a secret, telling no one about his encounter. His thoughts brushed against her. He was gripped by a loneliness so intense she could not bear it. Then another feeling rippled from him, capturing her; she struggled to recognize it. The feeling was curiosity. It was a cold blue light inside Reiho, dispelling his fears. It shone brightly, seeking out the dark places inside her.
    She withdrew from him. She had never touched anyone whose curiosity was this strong. The boy had to be a great sinner. She shuddered.
    “Why are you sleeping out there without a covering?” he asked. “I thought you would get cold.”
    “I'm training,” she replied. “I am preparing myself for an ordeal I must endure, and to live through it, I must be able to control my mind and body.”
    “I do not know one of those words.”
    “An ordeal? Is that the word?”
    He nodded.
    “It is a passage.” He still seemed confused. “It is something all people my age must endure,” she went on, “before we are accepted as adults. I must go with others into the desert and face something so terrible that no one will say what it is. Many die during an ordeal. My own brother Rin did not live through his.”
    Reiho's eyes widened a bit.
    “Don't you have such a thing?” she asked.
    He shook his head.
    “Don't you have to pass an ordeal before you become an adult? Perhaps yours is different. I have heard that in other